


Matchmaker

by starscrearn



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Loneliness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Swerve plays matchmaker, Valentine's Day, this has a happy ending even though the second chapter doesn't make it seem like it, those last three ships are technically just implied but very heavily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-20 04:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starscrearn/pseuds/starscrearn
Summary: Everyone likes Valentine's Day, right? Eh... not really. When you can't figure out what to do for your partner, the whole thing kind of seems like a drag. Luckily, Swerve's there with some tried and tested ideas for how to make the day go right--but who's there for Swerve?





	1. Part and Parcel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big, big thank you to [MooseKababs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseKababs/pseuds/MooseKababs) and [Cranky_Tanky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranky_Tanky/pseuds/Cranky_Tanky) for helping me through the rougher patches of this fic (and by that I mean the date ideas thank you guys so much oh my goodness)! They've both written some amazing stuff, so if you haven't read it yet, you totally should!

Swerve knew how to listen. It was all part and parcel of being a good bartender. Sure, people came for the drinks, but they came back for the easy smile, the understanding nod, and the jokes tailored to take their minds off things. There were around two hundred bots on the ship, and Swerve knew almost all of their names. And at one time or another, most of them had made their way to Swerve’s for a stiff drink and quiet chat with the bartender who always had something to say. 

There are things you’d say to the bot serving you drinks that you wouldn’t dream of saying to your commanding officer, your therapist, even your partner, and it’s not all down to the engex. As a result, Swerve figured he knew more than his fair share of secrets, and he kept them. He was a chatterbox to be sure, but he’d learned when to keep his mouth shut. But he’d also learned how to talk--when to laugh, when to sympathize, when to tell someone they were being stupid, when to offer advice, when to lighten the mood. And when Velocity wandered in, looking like she’d been told they were cancelling doctors, he knew what to do.

Swerve grinned and waved her over to the bar. “Hey, Lottie! It’s good to see you again. What can I get you?”

She nodded to Skids, who was tucked up to the bar a little further down, and shrugged. “Something mild?”

“Coming right up. And hey, it’s on the house.”

“Really? Thanks.”

He went to work, putting on a bit more of a show than he normally would. He waited until she was watching his hands and then… “So, what’s on your mind? You’re looking pretty down.”

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing really.”

Swerve nodded and waited some more.

Right on schedule, Velocity sighed. “It’s just that I don’t know what to do.”

Bingo. He poured her drink and slid it across the bar to her. “About what?”   


“Nautica’s been all mopey lately and I really want to cheer her up, but I’m not sure what to do. Then I remembered that heart thing you were planning--what did you call it?"

“Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, that. But I still don’t know what to do for it!”

“Well, she likes literature, doesn’t she? How about a poem?”

Velocity threw him a desperate look. “I can’t write! Not like what she reads!”

“So?” Swerve started wiping down a nearby section of bar that didn’t need it. “You don’t have to write her one, you can just find one.”

“But what if she’s already read it?”

“Simple. You get together… oh, let’s say about ten poems. You start reading them to her, one line at a time. Then at the end of each line she gets to guess the title and who wrote it. If she can’t guess or gets it wrong, you keep going. Just do that until you get to the end. You could even assign points if you wanted to.” He grinned. “It’s all about doing something personal for her. Taking an interest in what she likes is what matters.”

Velocity beamed, all trace of her previous melancholy gone. “Swerve, that’s brilliant. Thank you  _ so _ much, you’re a true friend.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Tell me how it goes, okay?”

“You bet.” She finished off her drink and passed the glass back. “Thanks again.”

“No problem,” Swerve said. “Any time.”

\---

Swerve knew how to hide things. It was all part and parcel of being a good bartender. People didn’t come to you to listen to you talk about your own problems, they came to talk about theirs. So when Tailgate wandered in, frowning as hard as someone without a mouth in the conventional sense could frown, he knew what to do.

Swerve grinned and waved him over to the bar. “Hey, haven’t seen you around in a while! How are things with you and Cyclonus?”

Tailgate hauled himself up on a barstool next to Skids, who was deep in conversation with Nautica, and promptly dropped his chin onto the bar. “I don’t know.”

Oh, that was bad. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“You know how he gets sometimes. He goes all quiet. I mean, don’t get me wrong! He’s great, and I do like him, but…” Tailgate sighed. 

“Hey, I hear you. Have you heard about the little holiday we’re doing? Might be a good time for you to relax, have a little fun, unwind a bit? You could surprise him! Or, well, maybe not  _ surprise _ surprise him, that might not go well, but you know what I mean.”

Tailgate tipped his helm and looked up at Swerve. “Like what? I can’t get him something--”

“I know, I know. He thinks possessions are a weakness. So here’s what you do.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s still teaching you songs in the Primal Vernacular, right?”

He nodded.

“Are you any good?”

“Probably not. But Cyclonus says I am.”

“Good. That’s great. You’re going to need Rewind’s help for this one.”

“Why?”

“See if he’s got anything in the Primal Vernacular in his database--not one of Cyclonus’s ballads. Ask him to find you a few love songs. Then all you have to do is learn them, and once you’ve got them down, bam! Sing them to Cyclonus.”

“What if I mess up? He’ll think I’m an idiot!”

“No he won’t,” Swerve assured him. “He’ll love that you’re doing something like that for him. How many bots on this ship know those songs, besides him? He’ll think it’s sweet, trust me.”

Tailgate finally picked his head up off the bar. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Trust me, it’ll work. Cyclonus is old fashioned, right? This is a surefire bet with someone like that.”

“Yeah… thanks, Swerve. I’ll go talk to Rewind right now!” And he hopped off the barstool, almost missed the landing, and headed off to find the archivist.

“Tell me how it goes!” Swerve called after him.

“I will!”

\---

Swerve was hard to surprise. It was all part and parcel of being a good bartender. You had to be prepared for just about anything, from Whirl throwing tables to Trailcutter trying to magnetize to the ceiling with a drink in his hand. Swerve had seen (and dealt with) all that and then some. So when Ratchet wandered in and dropped himself on a barstool, he knew what to do.

Swerve mixed up the usual and slid it across. “This one’s not free.”

Ratchet made a noise that could loosely be construed as a short laugh if you knew him well enough. Swerve knew him well enough. “Thanks.”

The medic sat there in silence for a minute or three, nursing the drink. “I need your advice,” he muttered into it.

Swerve almost dropped the towel he was using to wipe down the bar. “Sorry, can you say that again, Ratch? Did you just ask your drink for advice? Because if you did, you might want to see Rung about that… I hear he offers therapy.”

“No, I said it to you.” Ratchet vented and reluctantly looked up at Swerve.

He grinned. “Could you say that again? Not for posterity or anything, I just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“I need your advice.” He glared. “Happy?”

“Yeah, absolutely. What do you want to know?”

Ratchet vented even harder than he had the first time and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“ ‘s okay,” Swerve assured him. “Take you time. You want to twenty questions it?”

The glare got, if possible, even stronger, and Swerve momentarily rethought his approach.

“No.”

“How about I just guess?”

Silence.

“Oh… kay… does it have something to do with Rodimus?”

More silence.

“First Aid?”

The silence got a little angrier.

“Okay, so it has to be Drift.”

Slightly less angry silence. Ratchet tossed back the last of his drink and muttered, “This was a mistake.”

“Next one’s on the house if you want to stay,” Swerve rushed out. “You’re not the first person I’ve had in here asking about this. There’s that thing coming up, I’m sure you’ve heard about it, even if you don’t ever leave the medibay--whoops, I don’t mean that literally, just--that came out wrong. Look, the point is that you’re not the only one. And I have it on good authority that Drift is up for doing something.”

He didn’t feel the need to clarify that his “good authority” was Rodimus’s half-drunk declaration that Drift “really wanted to bang” from a few nights ago.

Ratchet rolled his shoulders and resettled his plating. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, totally. So. You staying?”

He propped himself up against the bar. “Might as well.”

“See, the problem--I say problem; well, it’s not really a problem, just something to work with--is that Drift knows about your reputation for… look, people called you the Party Ambulance. You knew about that, right? Oh Primus, please don’t tell me that was news to you--”

Ratchet waved him off. “I know.”

“Okay,  _ good.  _ The point is, Drift knows. So you can either work that to your advantage or you can surprise him with something completely different. You know, dinner and a movie, cuddling, all that cute, sappy stuff. Thing is, that doesn’t work for everyone. From what I’ve heard…” Swerve leaned in and lowered his voice, forcing Ratchet to lean in to listen. “That’s not Drift’s style. At least, not usually. From what I’ve heard, you might want to pull up a little more Party Ambulance and a little less med school, know what I mean?”

Ratchet did his not-laugh again. “Kid, when did you think I got the reputation?”

“Okay, a little less First Aid med school, how’s that? Look, all I’m saying is that Drift might like a little less public romance and a little more  _ berthroom romance. _ I mean, come on, you’d have to be malfunctioning not to notice the way you two look at each other. So. Set him up with something nice, you know, mood lighting, romantic music, the whole nine yards. Then it’s dinner out, and dessert back in your hab.” Swerve grinned. “It’s pretty simple. My guess is you were just overthinking it.”

“Yeah.” The corner of his mouth quirked up into an almost-smile. “Thanks. And… sorry. I’m not used to the whole… relationship thing,” he admitted. “But it’s no reason to do that.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s what I’m here for. Just treat him right and have a good time.”

“You know, I think we will.”

\---

That week, Swerve advised more than a few couples and groups. Whether it was picking out music, or drinks, or gifts, or anything else, he had an answer. It was all part and parcel of being a good bartender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 should be up in a day or two (I really meant to get this up _before_ Valentine's Day, but what can you do?), and I might do a collection of the dates mentioned in this chapter, if there's any interest in it.
> 
> As always, let me know if you spot any errors. Comments are always appreciated!


	2. As You Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, i have to give a big shout out to [Cranky_Tanky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cranky_Tanky/profile) for reading this over for me and to [MooseKababs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseKababs/works) for their invaluable efforts in explaining rom-coms to me and helping me pick one, because I know about as much as Skids does.

Skids sighed into his drink and watched as Swerve twisted the cap off a bottle with surprising speed and started to mix Velocity a drink-- something purple and vaguely shimmering. Without really trying, he overheard Lotty start to tell Swerve about her relationship with Nautica. He was glad the two had finally gotten together; they were good for each other. Though it did bring to mind his own relationship-- Primus, could he even call it that? What  _ were _ they, anyway? What was he to Swerve? Were they friends? He hoped so. Friends who flirted with each other, or at least tried to? Yeah, that still seemed to fit. Were they-- and he almost didn’t want to give voice to the thought because that would make it too real, which was a pretty good sign they  _ weren’t--  _ dating? 

Okay, so that was where things stood. They were friends who sometimes flirted with each other without outright dating, because neither one of them had said the words out loud yet, which was the worst thing for a potential relationship. Skids sighed again, slumping down over the bar, and dropping his chin onto his hand. He stared into the bottom of his glass, lost in thought for a long while, until he heard Swerve say, “Taking an interest in what she likes is what matters.”

He turned the thought over a few times and slowly a smile crept onto his face. There were the beginnings of an idea, and it started with Earth movies. Last month’s Swerve Idea had been a film festival, but the turnout had been disappointingly low and Swerve had been forced to cancel it after only a few nights because of the poor turnout. Skids fished a datapad out of his subspace and went looking for the file with the list of titles that had been on the agenda. He needed… what were they called? Swerve had only mentioned them once, and hesitantly at that. But it hadn’t sounded bad, just soft and sweet and perfectly within normal bounds, especially for him.

_ Rom-coms, _ that was the word. He needed rom-coms. Preferably nothing that sounded too sappy, that might have them both crying. Smile firmly in place, and with the start of a plan coming together, he started paging through the list. This was a good start.

\---

Skids sighed into his drink and nodded a greeting to Tailgate as the minibot pulled himself up onto the barstool next to him. As it turned out, there were no romcoms on Swerve’s original list. It looked like he’d tailored it more towards action and adventure films instead of what the Earthlets seemed to call “chick flicks.” He was almost on the verge of asking Swerve to recommend him a few titles a few days later, despite how desperately he wanted to keep the whole thing a surprise-- it had gone over well in the past. Or at least, it had gotten Swerve to pull out his  _ real _ smile, the one that wasn’t as wide as the grin he flashed his patrons. It was softer around the edges and lit up his visor, not with that sharp, sheer glow but with a certain depth and warmth. It was one of the things Skids loved about him.

For all his admiration of Swerve, he was mortified to admit that he didn’t know the minibot all that well, at least not on the level past “really likes Earth.” It had taken him far too long to admit to himself (much less to Swerve, whom he still hadn’t told) that he was pretty sure he was falling in love with the little bartender. This Valentine’s Day thing could have been the opportunity he’d been waiting for, as long as things didn’t go sideways before they’d even started. Over the years Skids had learned quite a lot, but one of the things he’d never been able to master was how to talk to a mech you had a crush on. 

Swerve’s voice broke through his daze. He was speaking to Tailgate, but it was just loud enough that it caught Skids’s attention. “He’ll love that you’re doing something like that for him.”

Well, that was the plan, wasn’t it, he mused. Do something for Swerve. He still hadn’t found a vid that he was positive Swerve would like-- unfortunately, it seemed like once you’d seen one or two Earth romances, you’d pretty much seen them all. But he was determined.

He’d also yet to find one that didn’t make him cry. After a certain point he’d just start thinking about Swerve, about openly trying to court him, nervousness be damned. Unfortunately for Skids, life wasn’t a rom-com.

But setting aside the issue of the evening’s entertainment, he still had no idea what else to do. Obviously, once the bar closed for the night, Swerve was not going to be allowed to work, though that played out better in concept than in actual practice, on the few occasions Skids had tried it in the past. This time, though… this time, Skids wasn’t going to let him get away with it. He was going to convince Swerve to sit down and let him take care of the running around and the cleaning up. The minibot needed-- and deserved-- a break. 

So. Skids was going to close up the bar for him and then take him somewhere for a vid or two. Simple enough. But where? He couldn’t just invite himself over to Swerve’s habsuite, that was rude, but would inviting Swerve to his habsuite instead seem too forward? Did he even have enough time left to book one of the smaller rooms on the entertainment deck as an alternative? He fumbled out his datapad to check, clicking over to the room requisition form. The usual warning scrolled across the top of the screen:  _ All requests must be submitted seven (7) days in advance to ensure that the room will be available at the specified time. _

He had four days. Apparently they were going back to his habsuite and all Skids could do was to hope that it wouldn’t be too unbearably awkward. And tidy up, of course, make sure there wasn’t a stack of datapads in the chair or fiddly bits of metal on the floor that Nautica or Brainstorm had left behind from whatever project they’d brought with them when they stopped by.

And after that? Well, Skids would walk Swerve back to his own habsuite-- or willingly recharge on the floor if Swerve decided to stay over-- and. Well, they probably wouldn’t kiss. When the thought ran through his processor, Skids figured he’d watched too many romances while searching for one for Swerve. That was how you ended a night with someone you were dating, and he’d already established that whatever he and Swerve were, dating was probably not it. That said, it was still a nice thought, and Skids moved on with a little smile.

\---

“Just ask him if there’s anything he’d like to watch,” Nautica had advised him, when he’d sought her help on the matter. “I’m sure  _ he’s _ got some ideas, even if you don’t.”

Skids had sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t want him to feel like I don’t pay attention.”

“Bet he won’t.”

But Skids had been-- and was still-- fairly certain that he would, on some level. Swerve talked a lot, and Skids liked listening to him, but for such a chatty bot he said remarkably little about himself. So he’d ended up hanging around the bar more than usual when Swerve was working. When he could he’d help him open up or close down. Between then he’d claim a seat at the bar and have a drink or two with a friend or listen to the latest bit of ship’s gossip from Swerve and ply him with quiet compliments between customers, hoping to draw out that genuine smile.

At times he felt like he was making things worse.

Tailgate and Velocity were by no means the only bots seeking Swerve out for a bit of love advice, and Skids knew they would keep coming until after Valentine’s Day. Despite how happy it seemed to make Swerve in the moment, part of Skids couldn’t help wishing they’d go somewhere else in search of answers. The bots that came to Swerve weren’t there to see the way his smile slid off his face when they left; they didn’t have to worry as much about the bartender once they were gone. But on that ship, there wasn’t really anyone else to go to, not for that sort of advice. The whole place was the refuge of the emotionally inarticulate. 

Skids sighed again and turned just enough to watch Swerve’s hands move over bottles and glasses.

“Hey, Nautica to Skids.” She waved a hand in front of his face. “You still with us?”

Skids jolted, spilling his drink over himself. “Ah--” He sighed. “Dammit, hang on. Swerve, have you got a spare rag?”

“Yeah, coming right-- up…” Swerve trailed off, mouth hanging slightly open. 

In his confusion, Skids had essentially thrown his drink at his own chest plates and it dripped down into his lap to puddle in the dips in his armor. He carefully shifted forward, trying to make as little additional mess as possible, and pulled the cleaning cloth from Swerve’s lax fingers. “Thanks.”

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

“Sorry about this, I’ll clean everything up,” he muttered, head down, oblivious to the way Swerve was still staring at him. 

“No worries, it happens,” Swerve managed. “It’s not the biggest mess we’ve had to deal with, I mean, last week we had, who was it, Trailcutter? And Whirl? In some kind of, uh, drinking contest I think?” With each question his voice hiked up a little higher and by the time he paused to reset his vocalizer, his voice was nearing something like a squeak. He continued in a more normal tone. “Yeah,  _ that _ was a real mess. So this, this is fine.”

A nervous giggle slipped out as he watched Skids make a disgruntled face and scrub the cloth over his hip.

“Yeah, I heard about that one. Didn’t someone else start it?”

Swerve nodded. “Jackpot did, yeah, accidentally. I think he was betting  _ against  _ Trailcutter which was really his first mistake and then  _ Whirl _ got involved, which, don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but that was when everything pretty much went to hell, yeah.”

Skids had actually been on his way to the bar himself that night, but when he’d spotted Ultra Magnus barrelling down the hallway towards Swerve’s, he’d decided that maybe he’d just rather have a quiet evening in his habsuite than in the brig. Now, he was even more glad of his decision.

“Bet Ultra Magnus was pleased with all that.” He paused and snorted, prodding at his hip. “Slag, I think it’s seeped under my plating.”

“Oh yeah, no, Mags was thrilled. He had about ten different reports he wanted filed. Took me hours to get through them all. By the way, if you wanna head to the washracks to get that off before it starts to dry under there, I can just put it on your tab-- or on the house, I mean, you didn’t really get to drink it what with it being all over you instead--” Swerve realized he was starting to babble and clamped his mouth shut.

Skids just waved it aside. “Nah, don’t worry about it, I’ll pay.” He sent over the credit transfer with a grin and headed out.

\---

Valentine’s Day rolled around, sooner than Skids thought possible. The crowd inside Swerve’s was surprisingly sparse; more bots had opted for a night in than he was expecting. Apparently the advice had been too good. 

After an hour or so of sneaking glances at Swerve and wondering how best to approach the question, Skids gave up and commed Rodimus. 

The speedster’s reply was instantaneous.  _ ‘so is this the night u and swerve finally get together?’ _

_ ‘I need a bit of help.’ _

_ ‘say no more i am omw ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ’ _

Minutes later, there was a screech of tires and the whirs and clicks of transformation in the hallway. Rodimus didn’t have to kick the door in since it was already open, but he burst into the bar with the same level of enthusiasm. He grabbed a chair, swung it around, and hopped up on it. “Alright, everybody out!”

_ Oh no. _ Skids nearly flooded Rodimus’s inbox with comms, frantically trying to halt what he’d set in motion.

The chatter in the bar died down.

“Aw, come on!” Whirl yelled, slumping down in his seat. “Who died?”

“Nobody, yet.”

“What? Wait--you’re shutting me down? But everything’s up to code! Mags--I mean, Ultra Magnus was just in here last week! Signed off on everything! He even okayed the decorations!” Swerve fought back a hiccup in his vents. “C’mon, Rodimus--I mean, sir, don’t shut the place down.”

The captain shook his head. “Sorry, buddy. Ratchet says we’ve got a confirmed case of theoretical languishing on board, so we’ve gotta shut it down. It’s just for tonight. Let’s go, people. Pay your tabs and pack it in.”

Credit transfers started pinging in as people filed out, and within minutes the bar was empty except for Swerve, Skids, and Rodimus, who hopped off the chair, pushed it in, and left with a nod to the theoretician.

Swerve sighed as he watched the last of his night’s plans walk out the door.

Skids unhitched himself from his place by the door. “Want a hand cleaning up?”

“Huh? Nah, it’s okay.” He grinned, wide and bright and he hoped it didn’t look too wobbly, hoped the whole thing wasn’t some joke Rodimus was trying to pull. “You’ve got plans, right? You should go ahead and take off. I can manage.

But Skids shook his head. “Nope. No plans.”

Swerve shouted down the tiny voice that piped up  _ ‘you could have asked me,’ _ kicking himself for assuming like an idiot, and said, “See, now I  _ know _ you’re messing with me. Seriously, go on. You don’t have to stick around.”

He gave Swerve one of those soft grins that always got his spark doing flips like a flight frame at a Vosian air show. Swerve had long ago decided that it should be illegal for Skids to smile at him like that and was in the middle of updating his mental dissertation on exactly why that should be the case when he realized that Skids had actually just said something to him and was now waiting for a reply.

“Uh. Say again?”

“But what if I want to stick around?” Skids repeated, fighting to keep a waver out of his voice.

_ ‘You don’t,’ _ was the mental response, but Swerve’s processor still stalled at the thought. “Um. I mean, I guess you could start wiping down tables. I mean, if you--wanted to--”

Before Swerve had actually finished the sentence, Skids tossed him another smile like it was nothing, grabbed a spare rag, and headed to the far end of the bar. Swerve hiked a dish bin up onto his hip and followed him, collecting abandoned glasses.

When he noticed that Swerve had joined him, Skids stopped short. “Here, I’ll take the bin. Let me clean up.”

Swerve glanced up at him, optical output from his visor narrowing in a close approximation of narrowing optics. “Did Rodimus put you up to this?”

“No!” Skids yelped, a little too loud. “No, nobody put me up to it. I just… wanted to do something for you.”

After another long moment of consideration he sighed. “You called Rodimus, didn’t you?” He didn’t sound angry, just… tired. Very tired.

Skids nodded despondently. “It was a bad idea. I didn’t expect him to close the place. I’ll cover the profit difference, promise-- I know you were planning on trying out some new mixes tonight.”

Swerve’s intake tubing flexed as he visibly swallowed. “Yeah, I was. No takers.”

“You’ve got one taker,” Skids blurted out. “Me. If you can forgive me. And if you still want me around after that.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’d cover the cost, were you?”

He shook his head.

“You don’t have to. Just… can you give me an opinion on the new drinks before you go?”

“I’d love to.”

Skids hurried through clearing the rest of the tables and they chatted meaninglessly while Swerve fixed up a short row of drinks.

“All fairly mild,” he added, setting the first between them. “The idea was that they were going to be for couples to share.”

On a whim, Skids reached over the bar to the jar where he knew Swerve kept the curly straws, pulled a pair out, and slipped them into the drink. “They still can be.”

Swerve whined quietly, but a smile-- the real smile, Skids was relieved to note-- threatened to curve over his face. “That-- wow, okay. That’s  _ really _ dorky.”

Skids grinned, propped his chin on his hand next to the glass, and stuck his tongue out, reaching for the straw. He couldn’t find it, and Swerve was treated to the sight of his optics going wide in panic as he searched for the straw with increasing desperation before finally catching it a moment later and drawing it into his mouth. He winked and Swerve dissolved fully into giggles.

“Very smooth,” Swerve said with a nod, once he could speak again. “How is it?”

He pulled himself off the straw. “Really good. It’s sweeter than I was expecting, but it’s not overwhelming. Have you tried it?”

“When I was making them the first time, yeah.” What Swerve didn’t mention was that the first batch had been almost nauseatingly sweet, even by his standards.

After a moment’s hesitation, he twitched his own straw towards him and took a sip. As he glanced up at Skids, he was grateful for his visor setup-- it made it more difficult to tell where he was looking, though the flush of energon that rose into his face at the thought that flitted through his processor--  _ I wonder if he thinks this is cute?-- _ might have given him away just the same. He spluttered and pulled back coughing.

Immediately Skids was there, heaving himself up over the bar to pound Swerve gently on the back, trying to help coax his vents to force the engex out of circulation. It took a moment, but Swerve managed to get himself back under control.

“Thanks,” he rasped. 

“Any time. Can’t have you choking in your own bar.” Skids left his hand where it was, rubbing little circles against Swerve’s backplates. “Speaking of, what do you say we take these drinks and get out of here, huh? Head back to my place? I’ve got a couple Earth vids we could watch.”

“What, so I can choke in your hab instead?”

“No, just so we can watch a movie. A rom-com or two.” He did his best to sound casual, to act like he hadn’t been rehearsing this moment for days, like he hadn’t almost just blown the whole thing by nearly stabbing himself in the face with a curly straw as he tried to share a drink with what he was more convinced than ever was the universe’s sweetest, cutest, most patient minibot. 

Swerve did perk up at the mention of the genre. “Really? Which ones?”

“I was thinking  _ Fifty First Dates _ and  _ The Princess Bride. _ Interested?”

His visor positively glittered. “I’ll carry the drinks.”

“Will you let me get them? You’ve been running around all shift.”

Swerve very definitely did not blush. It was such a small gesture, so he definitely wasn’t blushing. “Yeah, but if not for you, I’d still be hauling around the tray right now, so I might as well, right?”

Skids tipped his head and lifted his optical ridges a fraction, expression slipping into something even more dangerous than his smile: puppy dog eyes. And Swerve was a sucker. “Please?”

Even before he got the word out, Swerve could feel his resolve crumbling. “Alright, but only this once. Don’t think you can get away with always being this nice to me!”

The grin came back and before Skids could think it through, he leaned in a pressed a swift kiss against the warm, pliant metal of Swerve’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Swerve’s hand flew up to his face and he choked out some static. 

Skids’s optics went wide in panic. “Not good, huh?”

He shook his head. “No, I-- I mean-- that was--” He forced a vent. “It was good. It was very good. It’s just-- it kinda feels like my face is on fire now and I don’t think my fans are actually running so that’s-- it’s a lot to process but if you wanted to do that again I would be super not opposed to the idea--”

All the while he was stammering through the concept of  _ Skids actually kissing him, of all people, _ he was mechanically transferring the drinks to a tray, which Skids lifted out of his hands, leaving him reaching useless for it.

Skids ran a hand of his cowl, petting lightly with his thumb. “You said you were going to let me carry it, remember?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” He laughed nervously, wondering if it would be too much if he just curled up at Skids’s feet and never moved again. “Uh, lead the way, then, I guess.”

\---

It took them longer than Skids expected and a significant amount of awkwardness to find a comfortable way to sit where they could both reach the drinks. They settled for being side by side, almost touching, as the movie started. 

A few minutes in, Swerve shifted, leaning up against Skids’s side. Reflexively, he slipped an arm around the minibot, hugging him close.

“Can you use the other long arm and pull the drinks closer?” he teased.

He was rewarded with the soft purr of engines as Skids laughed and leaned forward for the tray. “Sure thing. Which one do you want?”

“The blue one?”

Skids passed him the glass and they both settled back into comfortable silence as the movie continued.

Then, abruptly, Swerve giggled. “Hey, Skids, I didn’t know you were in this movie.”

Skids glanced down. “Huh?” he replied eloquently.

He pointed at the vidscreen. “It’s you. You’re Lucy. ‘Cause, y’know, she’s cute and gorgeous and she’s got memory issues and she’s so nice and talented and everybody likes her and I’m rambling so I’m just gonna stop talking before I say anything else that’s super embarrassing, okay?”

Skids paused to consider this, nodded slowly, and said. “Well, if I’m Lucy, then you’re Henry.”

Despite his mental promise to himself to keep his mouth shut, Swerve blurted out, “The only thing I have in common with Henry is crushing on people way outta my league.”

He tapped on the minibot’s shoulder and gently cupped Swerve’s cheek when he looked up. “But you’re funny and kind and just as passionate and you’re so easy to talk to and fun to be around.”

Swerve opened his mouth to say something, paused, and closed it again. This happened twice more before he finally managed to squeak out, “I-I am?”

Skids nodded. “Absolutely. And you’re so supportive and you’re always there for me and you make things easier just by existing and I know I can count on you for anything. And also I love you.”

Hearing the words out loud stunned him into silence and from the look on Swerve’s face it was having a similar effect on him.

Swerve swallowed. “Say… say it again?”

“I love you.”

The smile he gave Skids was bright and wobbly but it was warm and sincere and he was pretty sure his spark would burst if he got any happier. Swerve fell forward and threw his arms around Skids, pressing his face into his plating, and damn if it didn’t feel just right. “I love you too.”

Once again they sat in silence for a time, broken only when Swerve crawled fully into his lap and settled in.

“We’re still gonna watch  _ The Princess Bride _ after this, right?”

Skids smiled down at him. “As you wish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woof, sorry it took me so long to get this bit out, guys! real life kinda got in the way for a while there. anyway, i hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for sticking around!


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